


Souls of Power

by Forest_Awakens



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Additional Tags May Be Added, Betrayal, Dreams and Nightmares, Drowning, Evil Zelda, F/M, Found Family, Good Ganondorf (Legend of Zelda), M/M, Minor Character Death, No Beta We Cry Like Men, Sword Spirits - Freeform, Trust Issues, accidental adoption of strange children you just met, accidently added comedy, an aro's attempt at writing romance, but its a boy and a bunch of swords, cursing, general violence, incompetent cults are incompetent, original loz story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forest_Awakens/pseuds/Forest_Awakens
Summary: For years the princess has adored the stories of old. Tale after tale singing in her heart of the same formula.The Hero, the Princess, the Beast.And though she knows she will never have any true proof, princess Zelda soon begins to fear she and her own friends fit that very fate she has dreamed of for years. In a fit of panic and planning, Zelda sparks war against Hyrule's allies and releases the great spirits, tearing through the world of magic and sending it all to hell.Link, the Foglander soul smith and Gandondorf, youngest child of the Gerudo chieftain, are all who's able to set the world right again, whether it be by saving the spirits or by taking down their childhood friend. But than again, Zelda has stopped her hated formula and left it all to the goddess to correct.The Hero, the Prince, the Beast.
Relationships: Ganondorf & Link (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Awaken in a Shattered State

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter seems kind of boring but i like it so :/ sorry yall.  
> Every zelda game starts out with link waking up dammit, we have a recipe and a good recipe makes usually half decent bread  
> TW: Cursing, Nightmares  
> Granny curses a lot, give her a break she's old

It chips away at the back of his mind, nagging in an annoyingly muffled chime of palpable worry. growing angry as he’s shocked by power that surges through the depths of his soul. Waves rolling in a contained sea as it crashes through him, dragging him in the depths of what he can feel to be home. And al at once it feels as though reality snaps to bits, piece by piece falling into the cast unknown  
“Link?”   
A small voice breaks out through the tidal wave, sweeter than courser bee honey and more reassuring than anything he could fathom. Its urgent, almost on the verge of screaming and for a moment he almost can place the speaker, the familiarity a confusing strain in his mind.  
“Link please! Listen!”  
A rolling wave of fear crashes into him, biting as an unrelenting of storm chokes him, scratching and snarling in his skin as it claws at his mind. The voice reminds him of the soothing song and thrum of home, though as the voice fades, still calling to him as the magic grips tighter, chains snapping weary bones.  
The magic is so undoubtedly familiar he can taste it, ancient as it courses through land not meant to contain it, forged in fire than broken in a fitful fury. It drowns him in a muddy image of glimmering colors and all he can fathom hearing is shattering glass. It hits the floor in small tinks and the magic roars, calling for help in agony that crushes Link’s being. His throat scratches, torn and old and new at the same time as he tries to call for the voice, anything as loneliness and fear bites at his soul.  
_“I am your master. We will save them._ ”  
Its low and hissed. A practical growl that sends fear through his heart.  
Zelda… Why is she…?  
Screaming, fearful and strange rips through the air and he’s forced into soothing darkness. Silence cuts through his thoughts as shards of glass cut and burn his skin, poking and prodding and stabbing. He can’t feel the warm blood beading against his skin, running down skin and pooling at his feet, instead the chink and crinkle as if his skin is glass itself. Pure betrayal, pain and anger rises through him, unpalatable and unfamiliar as a taste on his tongue as he struggles to breath through lungs that don’t quite exist.   
“Link!” His attention is drawn as the voice snaps back into reality, glass shattering with each sluggish movement.   
Time seems to have slowed itself in the sluggish design of the fear, each second drawn out to far. The voice is so close now. So close and it’s the voice that makes time move. If only he could…  
“Link, please, help them.”  
‘well alrighty than strange voice,’ he absently thinks to himself in the crushing darkness. A small chuckle somewhere in its depths and he almost forgets the anger and pain, power soothing and singing for a moment as something levels with the darkness, restoring something to it. Peace and balance in everything.   
The kind magic reaches out to him, hushing the steadily growing chatter of discontented souls as it brushes his fingertips. Familiar warmth as it grabs his hand to pull him from the comfort.   
“Link, you must wake up.”  
And everything _shatters._  
Hands wrap around his neck from behind and that breathless burning returns, he hears the chinks of glass breaking off and the screaming power returns, surging as it dots the darkness like stars in a night sky. That betrayal. That unfamiliar yet welcomed _fury._ Gasping for breath to turn and fight, fight for just _something._  
“Link! Wake up! Please you must-”  
Fear bubbles in his throat and the blood pounding in his ears drown anything else out. Another light, similar but wholly different pulls him into damnation, burning brighter and brighter as he let out a screech in anger and pain and _oh goddess that’s not his voice that’s a spirit._  
He claws at the hands that pull him further down, the lights battling above. They become an illuminated mess of screaming and they dance and mix until he doesn’t know where hope begins and death ends. The voices shout in tandem for a moment and its so similar to one another. It hurts and he just wishes for one or the other to call out so he can see. Finally see where they are. Time rushes around him to quickly, chocking at he can feel the years breaking at his bones, loneliness and contentment turned to pure anger at those in his domain. His domain that he knows does not exist anymore.  
The anger and anguish rise and bubble around him, calling as the magic itself screeches his name out of an indiscernible fear. It shifts his core and sets a stone in it, unsettling and rattling him in the glassy prison he he now resides. It becomes a smoke filling the clear air, choking him with shattered shards of shining splendor until he jerks awake with a painful gasp, the fog of the early morning bringing confusion and anguish to his tired bones.  
It takes a minute for the familiar hum of soul magic to take hold, allowing his own flailing heart to be soothed as he settles back into his mound of quilts. His eyes flutter shut. Everything in his mind screams to stave off the hubbub of morning rituals for just a moment to try and figure out what the hell’s going on.   
Familiar chimes call to him, one louder and more amused by the rest though a few sing in worry and attempt to reassure him.  
The dream… nightmare… the something still fogs his mind and drowns them out. That same surging power still present like a thick gunk in the back of his throat. His dreams have always been vivid paintings of simple emotion, small memories or just drifting the planes of the Foglands, yet always based in truth. Yet this was something he didn’t know and didn’t wish to remember again.  
Clanking is evident below the loft, slowly breaking him from his stupor. Curses of annoyance lead him to grin ever so slightly from under his blanket cave.   
“Link!” A call rings out, making him freeze for a moment before relaxing at the familiarity of his grandmothers scratchy voice. “I know you’re awake up there and I swear to the golden goddesses I’ll be dead by the time you get your ass in gear!”  
Link huffs a laugh, dragging himself up as the few spiris that had settled around him flew up into the air in a rush of excitement and energy and for some reason an unrelenting _hope._ Their voices chime together and wire framed wings flutter against each other.   
“The day she dies is the day the earth will sing. At least I’ll always have you lot,” he mutters to them, voice raw and scratchy.  
“EY! I may be a hundred and six but that doesn’t mean I don’t have ears you brat!” There’s no true venom in her words and he laughs lightly as she huffs and continues her banging, cabinets opening and slamming closed before pots and pans are thrown about with too much vitriol to fit into such a tiny woman.   
Link sits up and stretches, flinching at the crook in his neck and mutters about dumb magic making him sick as he hears a humored and worried chime from Iarta nearby. His head feels like its in soup, the magic in the air is so thick he that he can’t bear breathing. He shakes it away, pushing it down to his soul as he stands and walks to the railing. Link grabs it and flips over to the floor below.   
Several spiris zips after, chiming in worry as he barely avoids the table upon landing and stumbles to his feet with a stupidly proud smile. A wooden spoon clocks him in the back of the heads and he simple shoots his grandmother an incredulous look, worry slowly fades into a faint buzz in his chest.  
“Kid I swear, if you break your neck on your sixteenth fucking birthday I will change professions just to bring you back from the dead,” she says, finally grabbing a couple of mugs too place on the table. “In fact, I’m retiring! I can do just that!”  
Link snorts, pulling out the teabox from the only unrifled through cabinet. “Nanna, I think it’s a little too late to get into necromancy. That’s takes years to study.”  
“Well nobody plans a murder aloud, kid. I’d be a fool to study that ghost business in the daylight.”  
“You say this like you’re a good murderer, Nanna.”  
Another wooden spoon is thrown lightly at him as he places the box on the table and pulls out four at random. It hits the ground and he notes someone should grab that later before promptly avoiding it. Granny plops down into a chair at the table, setting down a basket from the nearby bakery as she does.  
“You best be perfect before you judge me, Link,” She says, a faux warning in her tone as Link pulls the steadily whistling kettle from the fire, filling each mug with practiced ease. “Glass stones, iron houses and all that.”  
“Sorry Nanna,” he says with a small smile, dumping sugar into one of the mugs before doling out honey into the rest.  
“Thanks but never say sorry kid, and watch the attitude before you start sounding like me.” She watches as he grabs the warm sugar filled mug and places it on the windowsill for the fog fairies. They zip over from the open window and perch on the mugs lip and on his shoulders, playful magic crackling around him making him smile as they chatter their own thanks. “Now where’s that damned sword spirit of yours? You’d think she’d want to be here for your staggering accomplishment.”  
“Careful there Miss Terria, you’ll start getting more bark than bite soon.”  
A loud stream of curses left the grandmother’s mouth as she chokes on scalding tea. Granny pushes her mug back, whirling around to see Iarta floating lazily behind her, blank eyes glimmering with amusement.  
Iarta laughs lightly as Link waves excitedly to her, piping up a quick good morning before he turns back to struggle with detangling the fairies that had decided to make their home in his hair. The fairies give annoyed chirps to him, burrowing further and scratching at his hands when he got too near.   
Their sudden hisses of annoyance and worry where evident from across the room. Their joy now gone and replaced with a panic of sorts.  
“They seem rather clingy today,” Iarta comments, grabbing a mug for herself before perching in the counter. Her face is set in a frown, tense in a certain sort of readiness as if she’ll need to launch into action in a second.  
Links thinks for a moment, staring off as he grasps for some sort of straw in how to hell he could explain the implications of magic being pissed of and terrified. Of how it screams and wails because something has destroyed its perfectly tuned balance. It gnaws at him and not even the comfort of familiar magic can draw that away.  
Link shrugs, “Its all gone to shit.”  
Iarta nods in understanding as his grandmother stares at him with a sort of indescribable expression, one completely done with Link’s already lacking communications skill and one completely disappointed in her own pain of having taught him said communication skills. Link shrinks slightly under the look before she just sighs and shakes her head.  
“Kiddo, we’re gonna need more to work with,” Granny says, taking a sip of tea before continuing, “Or… well I’m going to need more to work with, I can feel the sword’s smug ass knowledge from here.”  
Iarta shrugs, humming as she stares into the slowly rising steam of her mug. “Sunsets on key, there is something amiss but Link would know more so that me or any of us probably.”   
She fixes Link with a knowing look as he briefly debates if he would be allowed to run out of the house and just avoid this. If he’s quick he’d probably be able to get to fixing it before his grandmother got involved.  
“Damn your magic,” Granny mutters to herself, a sort of pride and sadness in her eyes, “Got that shit from your grandfather, I swear.”  
Link shrugs, grabbing his own mug as he tips it back and chugs the hot tea before setting it in the sink basin. He shifts under his grandmother’s watch, fingers tapping the counter before moving to return to coaxing the fairies from his hair. A few spiris had settled as well, the joints of the wire framed wings twisting in warm blonde locks, much to his annoyance and slight amusement.  
“Its not right,” he says finally, sighing and sitting back into his chair. “Somethings upsetting the balance and I think… I think the great ones are angry.”  
“And what kind of angry are we talking about?” Granny leans forward, eyebrows scrunching and frown deepening into one of worry.   
Link takes in a breath, “It’s a someone stole your left boot kinda angry, like someone grabbed it for no other reason than to royally piss in your wheat bread. And this is the bad kind of piss too and so the spirits are all mad and upset because somethings upset the balance and it may or may not be Zelda, that’s still up for debate. It’s a huge issue too and its scaring the spiris and the fairies and me as well. Like the bad kind of scary like the monsters that come out at night or moldolgas or mold or goats and—”  
“Link, hun, you’re rambling,” Iarta interjects, eyes glittering with amusement as she cuts off Link from his slowly forming tangent.   
He falters slightly, glancing to her with a small frown before sucking in a breath and forcing his heart to calm. The spiris chime in to comfort his slowly growing panic, a few dropping to sit on his shoulders and around him in general.  
Granny knocks on the table, commanding the attention from most attending parties, specifically those of the more living variety and not the crafted souls of the spiris. She raises a hand for silence after and the din of chimes quiets. “Link, I believe it would be best for you to go check on the great spirits if you truly believe something is amiss.” She spoke slowly and with more carefully chosen words than he had ever heard from her. “I understand it’s your birthday and you probably want to spend time with your friends because Hylia knows those two like to make such a fuss but-”  
“It’s my job now?”  
Granny nods and sighs, giving him a smile that by no means even reaches her cheeks, let alone her eyes. “Right on the nose kid, you’re in charge of this all now and better late than never, huh? Magic left to sit just gets angry and old and slightly rusty, just like ol' Iarta here.”  
“Glass stones, iron houses,” comes Iarta’s quip, “Watch your throwing arm, you might just hit a vase.”  
Link huffs a small laugh at them, “You two make less sense by the day, ya know that?”  
“Kid, we raised you. I’m sure we would know considering how much sense those damned rants of yours make.” Granny stands with a sigh, stretching her old bones before heading off her her workshop, or well what would now be considered Link’s workshop. She begins rifling through everything, glass clinking and heavy tomes of old, delicate and worth more than the entire home, hit the ground without much fanfare as several spiris fled the workshop, a few on unsteady and broken wings that they were in the process of repairing. They land in Link’s arms, earning a shout as he fumbles to hold their glass bodies.  
A pack hits the table with a large _bang,_ evidently enchanted by the runes embroidered on its body and made out of boredom by the small starts decorating the strap. A few rolls of parchment spill out as Granny reenters, a self satisfactory smile on her face.  
“Luckily I’ve prepared for a shit show like this!” She pauses for a second to see the raised eyebrows of Iarta and the confusion of Link and shurgs, “I’m too old to go check on them and have been waiting for an excuse to send Link off so I packed a bit ago. Planned to send him in a month but this seems like the kind of issue that would be best taken care of now.”  
Link grabs the bag and rifles through it a little bit until Granny walks over and drags him up, fixing a sheath and a green traveling cloak around his shoulders before unceremoniously pulling a cap over his head, trapping a couple fog fairies inside.  
“Now you look like a grass stain fit for adventure!” she proclaims with a large smile  
Boots are shoved into his hands and a muffin into his mouth as Iarta laughs lightly in a chiming voice and disappears, reappearing as a large sword in the sheath, shining proudly in the light as she chimes in reassurance.   
“Less talking, more walking before we all get dusty and take the port will you? And be sure to actually sleep at night, kid! I won’t have reports of my grandson dropping like a fly.”   
She starts pushing him out the door, letting him pause to shove on a boot before opening the door to the empty foglands. Expanses of mist and fog that swirl and hide everything beyond the fence line, turning the lands around the, into nothing more than blank views of a comforting magic. The dull thrum of it flitted around him, humming a song in his soul as his grandmother points him toward the familiar, actually empty expanse of his homeland where nobody really dares build their homes or livelihoods. The pull of fog fae’s magic is stronger there as they zip from his hat and hair and sit on the shoulders of his cloak in anticipation.  
Granny smiles brightly at him, eyes glimmering with a kind humor. “I’ll miss ya kid, don’t take to long alright?”  
Link nods, putting on the other boot while saying a muffled “me too” that sounds more like a deranged cow than anything else. She waves him off and watches as he disappears into the fog.   
Neither had ever been much for goodbyes. Granny had always told him that those were for either death or leaving the past behind, never for something to return too. Granted there were more curse words in her own teaching but still.  
The fog swirls around his feet, coating the world in its silent blanket. Each footfall is muffled against the worn path as the mist clings to his skin and dampens his cloak. The very magic to its nature turns the world almost fuzzy, a sort of niceness that comforts and sends a strange energy through his heart and mind.  
The spiris zip around him, chiming and glowing a warm gold as their wings make soft tinks against one another. In their light he can vaguely make out tall trees and expansive branches, the spiris zipping around them before returning and once again the world is enveloped in blankness.  
Link breathes in the air and smiles slightly. This is truly home, truly peace. Iarta hums lightly, voice filtering through his chattering thoughts, soothing and allowing piece.   
The spiris all return to zip along his feet, nudging against him ever so slightly as a reminder that others existed with him, before almost tripping him and zipping off again. Light dances around him in a flurry and rush of excitement. Really it’s a wonder no other Foglander had chased him down yet. He knows for a fact that the spiris are absurdly similar to lamps or traders or shops. Often he would’ve run into his neighbors who are usually just as confused at having left the paths.  
The fog bank breaks him from his thoughts, magic thrumming and beating in time with his own heart as the fog fairies zip into the air, spinning around him in bright laughter before they leave to join the others. The fog ship was old and almost decrepit. Its eternally creaking walls, half sunk into dry ground as branches from plant life intertwine with it. The only lights inside are the fairies whose magic fill it, swirling and glowing in the small clearing in the fog. From what anyone had ever known, deals older than the existence of the Foglands had led to its creation, though for what nobody seemed to search for.  
Link walks across the gangplank without a second thought, onto the main deck as old floorboards creak and groan in the silence. The shadows of the skeleton crew drift about, barely making their presence known through slight whispers as he passes. He enters the main lodging, slipping down one of the many ladders into a room impossibly filled with swirling fog that seems to wrap around him.   
He pulls off his green cap, pausing to run a finer over the stitching his grandmother had once done before taking a breath and letting out a shrill whistle. The spiris that had followed him zip out from the hatch above, a few dropping into the cap and they let out chimes to each other, annoyed as their wings buzz in the tight place. Link snorts at their annoyance before refixing the cap to his head and checks that the others are tucked well into his cloak and pack, warm and fluttering as their strange sort of soul magic soaks into his skin, comforting and welcome and wholly familiar.   
Without another thought he steps through the mist.  
It’s a murky soup of fog, thick and encompassing and almost chocking had be not been used to it. His boots remain hidden in the fog as the fairies of the mist twirl around him, giggling and pulling at his clothes, some brushing the tip of his nose. He pulls out sugar cubes from his pockets as he walks in the blankness, offering them to the fairies when they pass.  
Squeals of delight are heard, sharp nails brush his skin as they are stolen and he smiles slightly and nudges them away as the fog begins to recede. Dry air and blowing sand cuts against his skin. Bright light almost blinds him as he stands on a ship filled with sand, staring out into the horizon of the desert. Anger fills the air, magic amiss and calling as it notes he’s there and in the wind, its almost as if he can hear twin voices calling his name.


	2. Do Deserts Dream of Magic Sheep?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The magic is amiss in the dessert as Day and Night fight against one another. Link meets his good friend Ganon and some of his family to discuss whats brought him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plans have changed with the swords’s powers. They were going to cause a character to become to overpowered and became to similar to one another. That’s why the great spirits in the desert have strange powers, im sorry about that but im glad with how it turned out.  
> Also editing is a bit janky, ive been reading stupid long books with long descriptions for school. You can guess how this has affected my writing.

The wastelands stretch out behind him as he passes the fork in the dusty road, the desert before him expanding in its own crowning glory, a sea of seemingly endless waves crashing and rolling smoother than a night sky. The path has been worn down by many boots and hooves from past travelers, though lays dusty and unused now, evident by the loose sand paths the sand seals leave in their wake and the sand sparrows that flutter up into the sky as he passes.   
The glistening eyes of coyotes watch him from their dens as noses peek lazily into the blistering sun before they return to their own homes. Some come out to just pace along the edges of dunes and watch him with eyes colder than the peaks of the Rito Highlands. Lady Imene had always said they’re far more intelligent than many give them credit for. Nanna called them mangy mutts with eyes like dead spirits, cold and cynical without remorse for any remark.  
Vaguely Link knows the path leads to the nearest town, one Ganon told him always had the strangest collection of visitors, which really says nothing since Ganon’s view of weird somehow does not include Link or the young farm girl they both sometimes visit who has a tendency to send them vaguely threatening messages to bet on her team at the cucco races.   
Then again if you were to call Malon weird then not even Hylia can save you.  
The sun beats down on Link as he walks, becoming an underlying energy that crackles under his skin and runs his breath short. The burning star above makes him think to turn his cloak into a scarf because he curses his own home for making it an actually good idea to wear long sleeves. The thought of even an inch of makeshift shade sounds like a goddess sent.  
But he leaves it be and bites on the sand in his mouth and just keeps walking. Iarta says his fidgeting would make it come undone and he’s inclined to agree. More work than necessary and he just hopes his time in the desert will count for something besides burned skin.  
The stretching sand would seem like an endless wasteland compared to the sharp cliffs of the badlands that rise at his back, cutting through the familiar thrum of magic that leaves his heart tired. Monsters scatter about in the peaks, lizalfos blending into the scenery like evil gargoyles, waiting to jump at some traveler stupid enough to even approach those cliffs.   
Vaguely he remembers people always complaining that his homelands are nothing more than a dead bank of fog, forgotten to the world and as are its inhabitants. Endless and rolling for miles as it reaches and kills those who enter without a second thought, choking them in magic and stealing their soul from under their noses, returning them to nowhere when they are little more than wayward dust, driven mad by lights in the distance and the calls of people they can never see. Nanna calls it a fierce protector of an eternal nothing, born to die in their hands. Link never understood that.  
Zelda had once said the Foglands and the Gerudo Desert are similar in that regard. Vast expanses that hate any not born there and even then those born are scorned to learn how to live in its harsh hell. She said both are nothing more than dead lands and perhaps that’s why Link and Ganon both adore traveling together. To find color in a world of blank nothing, to find a sort of change. Link disagrees but its not like he’d ever tell her that.  
The expanses of sand roll around him, kicked up in puffs by rogue wind as glimpses of sand seals bask and dig through the sea. Lizards zip about, strange in the daylight as usually they prefer to bask and roam under the stars. Sand sparrows chirp from their spots half buried in the sand, beady eyes staring as their red feathers glimmer in the light. Ahead a traveler watches a group of horses stand in a patch of short grasses, tall and imposing as the sun gleams across their coats and pride dances in their gate. They snort to each other, a mother and her foal nuzzle against each other and a tall brute of a horse snorts a warning at a small hobble of monsters that had drifted to close in the night. The vines of melons reach to the sky and fall to the ground as they spiral and spread. The fruits and flowers of cacti reach to the heavens with the grasses and weeds and prayers that grow and tower over the dunes.  
Around him the desert is alive, whole and true as it flutters with a warmth to those who notice it and a harsh adoration to those that bask in its beauty.  
Yet around him the desert is scared.  
The animals move quickly, rapid steps and movements in time to the thrum of Link’s heartbeat and the tap-tap-tapping of his finger against his side. Each glances about quickly as they move and squirm and growl and ruffle fur and feathers for the sake of just moving.  
Lizards that usually perch from rocks, calm as the midnight moon stare and hiss at him before leaping off and scurrying away. The sand sparrows constantly dig up small puffs of sand, screeching instead of the sharp yet sweet chimes, similar to the monsters screeching in the distance. The spiris dance about as the sun gleams off their glass bodies and through iridescent wings casting small fragments of light to the ground.   
Their magic is small and ever present, a habit he has of seeking out and a fluttering warmth that emanates from everything with the gift of life. It mixes with the desert around him, the wayward magic that thrums through all places dancing at the edges of his mind.  
Yet the magic of the great spirits don’t truly break into his mind until he falls into the dust, mind blank as limbs refuse to move from under the sheer weight of undoubtable comfort. Home. He’s home and he’s safe and it's quiet now, like the desert’s life has left. Magic coats like a thick blanket before a hearth. Chill comforts his bones and the pain of the burning sun is masked by another’s.  
Iarta crouches by him, appearing in a swirl of pale smoke though her form barely holds together as she shakes his shoulders, voice lost to the steady, unmoving wind.  
Link can barely feel it. In truth it seems like nothing exists at all. Just him and the still desert and the call of a spirit to rest because everything is alright now. _It's time to sleep, Sunset._  
Above him the sky seems to muddle into an odd murky grey, like a child struggling to paint the sunset, night bleeding into day through a dirty paintbrush as the wondrous red and oranges turn the serene blue into mud. Darkness grows around his vision and Link thinks it's odd that it's growing dark, usually he doesn’t lose track of time this badly. Without a second thought Link detaches into the darkness of the spirit’s hold.  
The magic is stiff and terrified, swirling in a locked cage and in the darkness, in the pulsing, encompassing darkness of a warm magic he realizes there aren’t just one but many spirits, though two stand above all else. One so faded and one so powerful though their magic fluctuates and spins and changes so quickly it becomes dizzying, sending waves of nausea through his stomach.  
The nausea becomes pain, blinding as something else grabs him to tug him awake. Not the light of the sun’s grace or the moon’s warmth or the crackling lightning that begs to be released. No. No, it's an anger. A malicious anger that is so tired and so ready to be freed.  
Each steady breath in the dark is a pounding heartbeat and a scream for him to hurry because it's tired and it's hurting and it knows that it's Link’s job to _f_ _ree it_. The magic boils his blood and forces him awake as pain floods his system. His muscles seize tight and he chokes on air as the thought of the grace of the moon’s sleep is chased away.  
Energy, false yet all too real shoots through his bones and coats his throat like sour medicine. Every thought screams for him to run.  
Run because it’s the only way to help. Run because it’s the only way to be free. _Just run._  
Link scrambles up as Iarta shoots back slightly in surprise from where she had settled. Far down the road the traveler seemingly sways on his feet like he couldn’t exactly tell just how tired he is.   
The sun’s magic returns.  
Link takes a breath as the pain fades and is replaced by a simpler sort of being. The iron taste on his tongue becomes nothing more than gritting sand now. After a moment it registers that he’s begun walking, legs moving of their own accord as Iarta rushes to return to sword form, only giving a worried look and a shake of the head. He barely notices the weight return to the sheath across his back.  
Link’s sure she feels it too. The rocketing energy and need to move.   
Withering burns replace the comforting chill of a desert night. The heat’s a different kind of magic compared to the boiling of his blood yet all the same it carries a need for him to hurry. A magic static begins crackling at the tip of his nose, comfortingly familiar as the sky above turns to its usual bright blue. The spirits flutter up and about, shaking off their own magic lethargy as they chime and sing in the sun’s light. Link continues walking, huffing and giggling as their chimes turn from worried to excited.  
Nanna had never allowed for them to travel far from the foglands, claiming them to be too delicate in their current form. Easily smashed and wings easy to simply snap as if they are nothing more than thin glass.  
Yet they still dip and sing in the unforgiving landscape, the thundering booms of lightning making them pause occasionally to listen to it, the fearful magic that causes its spark evident. Lightening ricocheting from the dark clouds in the distance as his heart plummets.  
The taste of betrayal blows in from the storm, as bitter as rot while anger lights up the sky and Link can only hope he can hurry to it.  
Link blinks and he’s running now, gasping for breath in the burning light as clouds slowly encompass the sky. His lungs burn for air and his hair sticks to his face, a mere annoyance as his mind blanks because Hylia above he needs to go, he needs to get to them.  
“Sunset you need to stop!” Iarta’s voice is loud in his head, bouncing among his own screams.  
Link shakes his head, drawing in a large breath as he continues and promptly slips on some loose sand as he tries to cut a corner on the winding path. Sand cuts and rubs at his palms as his foot sinks and he tumbles. Easily he scrambles up, running like Hylia herself is about to smite him.  
An encampment rises, standing proud before a familiar trade town. Tents were pitched about, banners dignifying each one with its own special job as soldiers and guards mulled about. Sand seals and a few great horses were being brought to makeshift stables, each armored in their own right. Link fixed his view on the only tent labeled with what he vaguely remembered as ‘meeting in progress’. It also could say ‘bathroom’ and he wouldn’t know the difference as his grasp on most languages is dubious.   
Link slows to a walk that makes his skin crawl and thoughts scream _to run—RUN—_ and approaches the labeled one without much thought as the magic of the sun slowly fades into a buzz. He can feel the weariness of Iarta who struggles to retain the magic of the sun for Link. The sky above darkens sluggishly and the women mulling about eye it with a growing apprehension as a few of the horses grow restless in their keep. A guard stops before him, eyes narrowed as the hand that clutches her spears tightens.   
“Halt,” she practically growls as Link blinks dumbly at her. He can’t exactly place or recognize her so he thinks that this can only end badly. “State your business, hylian.”  
Ah. Ouch. Link internally groans in annoyance. He opens his mouth to try and rectify the situation, which would most likely not work but he has confidence he can hold a conversation for at least five minutes or until he can run until a slightly more familiar guard cuts him off.  
Who he thinks is Orar rushes over, holding up placating hands and a smile more amused than anything else. She says something quickly in the local dialect that Link absolutely does not understand, words falling dead to his ears. He understands what they speak in the major cities to an extent and he can only fidget slightly as the guard gives Link the side eye. He knows he’s probably more suspicious than he has any right to be, covered in sweat, a surprising amount of sand, and tailed by fairies with a large sword strapped to his back. Intimidating? No. Suspicious? Absolutely.  
The two women argue for what seems like hours as he shakes his head and wipes the want of sleep from his eyes, rubbing his hands to dig the uncomfortable grains into the back of his hand in a futile attempt to keep the creeping feeling of home away. The storm mulls above, dangerous as it swirls in the darkening sky. It wouldn’t rain here, not with the chieftain's children keeping the worst of it away though he hated that he knows who was even bringing it in the first place.  
Orar turns when his hand grows red and begins to sting beyond what he could handle, smiling at him now and motioning him to go on before she walks away. Link didn’t exactly want to as the guard gives him a strange look but the darkening sky and call of sleep make him rush ahead, bowing his head to both in turn.  
The camp is packed tightly together and clusters around him in crowds of guards and animals and supplies until he easily slips into the small clearing ahead of the designated tent. The entrance is open to let in the wind from the storm, fabric rippling lightly in the wind as he awkwardly peeks in.  
Ganon paces across the floor, hands clenched as gears turn in his head, the ornate shield across his back and the armor he usually dons shimmering slightly, freshly polished. Behind him a table sits, decked in what Link guesses to be maps as a group of familiar ladies crowd it, whispering furiously to one another in small conversations. Link guesses its almost the entire family, a few missing as is per usual. The youngest glares at one of the elders in a silent battle of wills as the eldest woman, tall and a tad tired looks between the two in amusement. She sighs at the two when it becomes clear after a moment that they won’t quite yet won’t start an all out brawl over the maps and glances to Ganon than Link, offering a small smile and incline of the head.  
“Sav’otta!” She calls over, standing straight and tall in the fine regality he knows is only reserved for Lady Imene, Gerudo Chieftain. “You do know you’re allowed to join us, right?”  
Like clockwork the rest of the room notices him, sister after sister glancing to him with mixed looks of joy to vague amusement. Finally, at the whispering prompt of one of the ladies, his friend looks up from his worried musings.  
Ganon blinks owlishly, a grin slowly growing across his face as his eyes crinkle and glimmer with joy. He bounds forward and tackles Link into a hug, pulling him into the tent and into his arms. Link sinks into it, humming lightly as comforting magic rewraps its hold around him, mixing with the soothing nature of a storm.   
Iarta chimes loudly in worry as Link mutters a “hi” before the world fades again.  
The murky magic presses against him in what could’ve been a blanket of comfort. It buries him, danger far gone from the center of his mind as the sheer sense of home washes through him. The pain from before doesn’t come and he revels in this, just the small stars above and the gentle weight of a million tears and his own pounding head. Lightly, magic of the fog and life brush against him, tugging his heart in a million directions, each more different than the last. Tinking of glass and he can almost feel the cool fog rolling against his hot cheeks, can almost see the lights in the distance and the call and song of neighbors.  
Humming slowly cuts through the sea of darkness, sweet and soft as it grows louder and more familiar. It soothes away home into a familiar place, yanking the blanket of magic though the crackling thunder remains. Link shifts slightly and takes account that it's Ganon who's humming. A soft tune that dips and turns and sounds like deep sweet honey. Spirits flutter their wings and rest around and on him, warm with sluggish energy as they chime in tune to the hums, off course and never quite on key but comforting all the same.   
It rams into him like a horse, eyes shooting open as the blanket of comfort is ripped away and the realization of holy heck his back hurts bubbles through his thoughts. Static shocks him and the energy of the new day rockets through his bones.   
Ganon yelps as Link scrambles up from where he had been laying across his lap, reeling for balance, arms spinning around in a cash grab for balance before crashing to the floor. The spiris chime in surprise and panic as he stares up at the tent’s ceiling, breathing in a static storm of worry as they flutter down and rest against him, glass bodies cold in the desert’s heat.  
Ganon is by him in an instant, hands flying to check his forehead and trying to brush some the sand off Link before grabbing him and pulling him up. Fruitlessly he worries over him, muttering to himself as Link blinks back the loud buzzing of the sun. It’d grown louder with each step in the desert and now it was seemingly growing restless and loud now that Iarta was across the room with his bag and cloak.   
Finally he regains enough sense to push Ganon’s arm back slightly, signaling him to step off. Ganon complies though, looking at him with worry in his eyes as above the storm crackles and cries, unsettled though not quite angry enough to let lightning rip into the heavens.  
“I’m fine, Gan,” Link mumbles, smiling slightly as Ganon frowns back.  
“Like hell you are.”   
He practically picks Link up like a rag doll, dragging him over to the crates in one of the tent’s corners before grabbing a water skin from one and shoving it into Link’s hands. Not the most healing of things but Link drinks anyway as Ganon’s worried glare settles into contentment. They settle back onto the ground, the crates either stacked to high or to rickety to sit on.  
Without much thought or grace, Link bounces with energy, tapping the sides of the waterskin as Ganon doesn’t bother to try and make conversation with his absent friend, continuing to hum and smile at the spiris like he had been before. He picks at the cloth wrapped around his hand as the skin beneath stings. He doesn’t think that’s been there though makes a note to thank Ganon later, but his thoughts run long into the sun and he forgets to in a few moments as he takes to brushing sand from his pants and the dust from the tops of the spiris. They coo their thanks and continue zipping about at dangerously high speeds, Ganon watching them with a sort of childlike glee as he laughs at their joy.  
After a good minute it becomes clear to Ganon that Link is about to jump up and rush into the desert so he finally relents and lets Link hop up, following quickly though muttering more to himself about tired legs.  
“Seriously, Birdie,” He says, eyebrows raised as he grabs Link’s arm to stop him from running out with nothing but the clothes on his back. “Are you alright? Thought I lost you for a good bit.”  
Link pauses to glance to him and actually _stop_. “I’m doing alright for now, we have more important things to worry on.” Link grabs Iarta and his bag, a familiar chiming greeting him as he slips the sheath over his shoulder along with his bag. Ganon rolls his eyes and helps Link reattach the clasp of his cloak, the crackling energy building in his gut as his hands shake a tad too much.  
“Well you’re still more important to me, now come on, mom needs us probably.” Ganon turns and drags Link out as he sputters and blinks for a few seconds.  
After those few seconds though Link starts walking ahead with a spring in his step and a burning need to run as energy rips through his muscles and lighting in his veins. Needles prick at his feet with each pause to let Ganon catch up, who only lets out a laugh more akin to rumbling thunder that has Link smiling brightly despite it all.  
“You know,” Ganon murmurs once he finally picks up his pace to Link’s delight, “You’d be a sand sparrow with all that energy. Well, that and with all that sand you practically blend in with the floor.”  
Link scoffs and sticks his tongue at him, “Oh yeah yeah laugh it up. You’re just mad that I’m better at hiding than you.”  
“That’s because you're absolutely tiny, ya cucco!” Ganon wraps his arm around Link as if to accentuate his point, lifting him off the ground with ease as Link shrieks and laughs. Ganon refuses to put him down no matter how much Link tries to hit him away.  
“And you can’t talk, you’re an absolute giant!” Link cries.   
Ganon smiles wide, “Then you must be minuscule to think such things! To think, Link! I had such faith in you! I’m insulted!”  
“You better be, ya oaf!”  
The spiris flutter around them, chiming happily as Ganon lets them perch on him and in his other arm.   
They near the tent and Ganon finally relents with letting him walk on his own after enough looks from the soldiers and guards who struggle to not laugh at them. They, in all fairness, are failing miserably. Link grumbles at having to walk, Ganon snorting at his indignation.  
They enter and the mood shifts just so. Ganon sours at the sight of the map, brought back to their present issues as he lets out a rather sad sigh before grabbing Link’s arm for reassurance.   
Most of Ganon’s sisters had gone off, perhaps to prepare for battle or travel though Link’s sure that given enough time and coordination, they could probably destroy many nations with absolutely nothing to their names. In short they definitely did not need the extra time to prepare.  
Lady Imene smiles at them lightly when they enter, Link smiling back in return as Ganon manages a slight grimace. Ganon’s youngest sister, Koluni, waves at them from her seat right next to Imene, a charcoal pencil and a few sheets clutched in her hands as she pauses in her furious scribbling. After getting waves back she returns to her scribbles, fiery red hair bobbing slightly from where one of her older sisters, or most likely Ganon, had pulled it back for her.  
They take their seats at Lady Imene’s prompting, settling easily as the energetic buzzing of a new day is dulled by the crackling of storm.  
“Link, I’ll cut down the chatter. ” Now that she’s stopped smiling she looks almost bored, resting her head on her hand as she stares down at the map of the desert. Though the sharp gleam in her golden eyes and the fist curled on the hilt of the dagger spoke differently. “In short, Hyrule, specifically Princess Zelda, the youngest, who has taken the throne from what I’m told by ways of either a coup or murder we are unsure, has declared war on us and by proxy the zora. What's more is she has insulted the honor of the Gerudo people as well as the zora and by the latest information of the foglanders.”  
She takes a breath and glances to Link, who's more so focused on the winding river that cuts across the desert. “I’d like to ask what crisis has happened to bring you here as I was under the impression your letters told Ganon you were staying in the Fogs.”  
There’s a certain warning in her tone that Link knows immediately. More so he’d heard it a long time before back when Ganon had a tendency to get lost with Link and Zelda during the era of the Undying Cult’s active phase. A tone that said she wants them back home and safe before things fall apart. It's never been one asking him to leave though, and that provides far more comfort than he likes to admit.  
Link debates his own answer, continuing to pick at the cloth over his hand that seems to be more inclined to come unraveled now. “I don’t know much and didn’t before. Somethings causing the Great Ones to freak out, or their magic at the very least to freak. Zelda… She’s the one behind it. I’m sure, though I knew that before all of this or… or at least I thought I did.”.  
Nobody catches him on that or stops him and it's Koluni who pipes up, quick to take attention away from his own confusion.  
“They’re the sword guys right? The Great Ones? Like those cool swords you’d tell us about?” She straightens from where she’d been mimicking her mother’s stance, grin slowly growing as she stares at him with a sort of wonderment that Lady Imene’s children never seem to be able to lose. “What's wrong with them? I mean besides ‘freaking out.’ Are they okay? Did they break?”  
She’d always been the one the most interested in talking about sword spirits, or at least the old stories that accompanied them. Koluni has the habit of banding together the rest of the kids and dragging Link away from Ganon and Zelda to talk about them, much to his friend’s annoyance. Though Link hadn’t actually ever stopped her so he thinks he’s to blame. He’s terrible when it comes to refusing the tiny explosion waiting to happen that is Koluni. Some days he thinks she’s preparing to go to war against the goddesses themselves. The only thing stopping her is that her hands are too small to carry many weapons.  
Maybe Links can get her a knife. Her birthdays soon and kids like knives right? Something with a spirit to fight for her, that would be her best bet against a goddess after all.  
Iarta chimes loudly in his head, rocketing through thoughts as he flinches, coiling back in surprise as the room’s occupants glance at him in worry. He blinks and shakes his head before tapping back in to form a coherent thought.  
“Um,” he starts rather intelligently, “Zelda has caused the great one’s magic to go haywire. I’m not sure how but it’s… it's affecting a wider area and actually affecting stuff directly. It's… not supposed to do that? That’s why I’m here, I need to check it all out.”  
“Could’ve sworn that’s Miss Terria’s job,” Lady Imene muses, gilded eyes focusing on him. “She’s been the one taking care of all things spiri related since even I was just a child.”  
“No,” Link shakes his head, “Its… erm… It's my job now, I’ve taken over everything today. Maybe just a few hours ago? I dunno how long I’ve been out.”  
Ganon pauses for a moment on what he was going to say, staring at him as Imene looks at him for dots to connect. “Oh fuck. Oh FUCK. _ITS YOUR BIRTHDAY!”_ He shouts before stumbling up and pulling Link into another hug.  
Link snorts a laugh and struggles to hug him back, his arms basically pinned to his sides. When that fails he relents to snuggling into Ganon’s chest and cursing how fucking tall his friend is. At least it's warm and he can actually appreciate how safe he feels there, compared to the faux comfort the moon provides. Or… if it really is false.  
“Link, I’m sorry,” Ganon mumbles, he squeezes Link and then lets him plop back down, giving him a doe eyes look he’s known for and effectively crushing Link’s heart. Link’s never been one to understand Ganon or Zelda’s love of celebrating birthdays but goddesses above if it didn’t hurt his heart to see them go to such lengths over something he couldn’t care less about.  
Link knows Ganon is going to find a way to make a huge deal out of this and find a way to make him care.  
So of course Ganon looks ready to argue when Link says “Thanks but really I really think we should just focus on this all right now, alright?” He pats Ganon’s arm reasuredly and grabs his hand.  
Imene nods and plows on, turning to the map and straightening to her full height, imposing and powerful and oh so different from the usual tired mom impression she gives Link. “Then we’ll send you by sand seal as we need the steeds for transport across the planes. It shouldn’t be so hard anyway, we march out in four days time so it should be enough for you to return and report.”  
Ganon straightens as well, “I'm going with him, Birdie’s gonna get himself killed out there.”   
Imene doesn’t refute him and nods with a fondly exasperated look. Link doesn’t bother to argue, there’s no winning against both of them and Iarta chimes in agreement. Koluni is giggling to herself as well and Link is too scared to ask why.  
“Can I ask about the sword itself now that that’s settled. Stories haven’t been passed so far and by the effect it's had on you, I can tell that it must hold some sort of power.” Imene leans back in her chair, the sapphire circlet on her head glimmering in the light of nearby lanterns, bracelets clinking as she folds her arms. She makes no real movement after, perfectly still in waiting for an answer. “I don’t want them hurting our chances in battles. It's already going to be hard enough trying to get letters out to others with the hyllians controlling the major route points and I’ve never heard the legends from Miss Terria… well never had the time to listen anyway.”  
Lady Imene only stays so still when she’s stressed, eyes losing their usual mischievous sparkle and voice the light humor which always made sure to address her children and their friends.   
Link stares at the map and tries to focus his own thoughts and keep them in a relatively straight line and not trail into watching the movement around him as they are all still and quiet. The sun still buzzes in his veins though fades as the rumbling of thunder chokes it in cloudy blankets.  
“Its two swords actually, twin scimitars to be exact. Known as the blades of the sun and moon, they exist as separate entities but still connected to each other in some way. Two minds with a similar purpose, well the exact same purpose which I guess is why they are so connected.” Link takes in a breath to steady himself, turning to rustle through his bag instead. Nanna had always packed that sweet little kid book with pictures of the swords—and maybe some battles and gore and such, foglander books in Link’s opinion are a little strange to the hyllians and zora but eh, Ganon says they’re neat—so he hopes she has left it. “I’m not too sure on the exact magic but I know they exist to provide passive support to their wielders. It’s the reason the night, while active, is so quiet and why the day, while alive, is so dead sometimes. The moon blade casts comfort and a need for rest and the sun provides energy and a wakefulness. They are meant to be paired and balanced so their magic combines. That isn’t happening right now and they keep overtaking each other completely at random intervals.”  
“And those vaguely random intervals..?”  
“Are the reason I’m covered in sand and keep falling asleep.”  
Link pulls out the little book and flips through to a picture of the twin blades, stylized and simpler than he thinks they probably are. Koluni takes it excitedly and both Ganon and Lady Imene look to it in interest.   
“Honestly, ” He murmurs more to himself, “It could just be myself but something does really feel off. I’m guessing it isn’t affecting you all as much because of your own magic. I just need to figure out why.”  
Koluni blinks, eyes brightening as she shakes her hands in excitement before struggling to try and retain a calm demeanor. She fails spectacularly but they all appreciate it breaking Link out of spiraling. “The Tilauta twins said that the magic’s off! They aren’t falling asleep but one of em said that its gonna affect you weirdly cause you’re a foglander and all that so they wanted to write to you for you to stay away!"  
“Well they’ve always been good at magic, or at least I think so, nice that they also feel this mess.“ Link mutters, eyes drooping a bit before he shakes his head to clear the murky soup.  
“I can go as if ya want about it! They may know others too!” Koluni’s shouts now, voice rising in pitch as she doesn't wait for anyone to respond before barreling past and out of the tent. Lady Imene watches her go as Ganon snorts at his sister’s antics.   
“Firstly,” Lady Imene sighs after a moment, “Link, I can tell you’re about to pass out again. Ganon Take him somewhere safe. You’ll both set out at mid afternoon tomorrow as I need your help with writing letters to the zora. After this, that should be both yours and Link’s destination anyway. We can discuss this all when he isn’t about to his the table.”  
Ganon nods and Link hums in agreement, rubbing his eyes as the blanket of comfort falls across his shoulders and begins seeping through his bones, mixing with the thundering booms above and the crackling of thunder to create a familiar humming in his chest. Ganon lets him slump into his side and together they walk out, Link more so stumbling as he murmurs small tidbits to Ganon and Iarta and the spiris that nestle into his cloak who each respond in kind with their own humored agreement.  
The moon falls in place of the sun and in the distance it's almost as if Link can hear them scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been a bit. I’ve been too anxious to write so this took a while for me to be able to sit down and write.  
> Also foreshadowing? Hell yeah! Well it won’t come in for a bit but eh, whatever.  
> If your confused on what the powers are id be happy to explain (if I can figure it out myself ‘,:p) or if you just have any questions. i know i info dump but i dont know if i info dump the right stuff  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you have a day!  
> Love,  
> Cherry <3

**Author's Note:**

> Spiri and Fog Fairy general info to make life slightlyn less confusing: [link :) ](https://mothmansrevolt.tumblr.com/post/621942666743169024/)  
> Oh god i have no idea what im doing. this is literally just Link waking up and having a conversation. Im sorry its boring but i didnt know how else to start.  
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you have a wonderful day, or hey, just simply have a day.  
> -Cherry  
> [](https://mothmansrevolt.tumblr.com/post/621942666743169024/)


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